


cause they've never even touched the sky

by loveliza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Modern AU, Young Love, some violence but not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveliza/pseuds/loveliza
Summary: “Stop running,” Lance would say, yet again. He’s sat on his bed, eyes glued to the stars on his ceiling.“Or what?” He asked. “You’ll leave me out in the cold?”“I hate you,” he whispered. They both know he doesn’t mean it; that he’ll open the window to his heart every night if Keith needs help. They ignore that, too.





	cause they've never even touched the sky

Keith Kogane believes that he and Lance Serrano will never be friends. They were too different.

He was all soft skin and waves lapping against his legs, the blues and reds mixing into purple on the horizon; downcast eyes, arrogant smirks, and the smell of rain. A heart hesitant yet needy in its right to love, with freckled shoulders, and vibrant blues staring straight at you. Keith was lava spilling over the edge of a volcano, shrouded in bullshit rumors, and the lingering scent of cigarettes; the adrenaline rush of wind pushing against his face. Dark eyes and dark hair with a knack for finding dark alleys with bodies to bruise his fists.

So, why is it always his room that Keith found himself climbing into when the suffocating silence of home gets to be too much?

Even stranger, Lance never turns him away. Never shuts the window with a scowl or yanks the curtains close on him or curses him out for waking him up at god knows what hour.

No, Lance just silently accepts his wounds and blood stained fists and dirty boots that track mud all over his carpet. He would fix him up and let Keith brood on his floor while he goes back to whatever he was doing.

On rare nights, when Keith showed up past reasonable hours, Lance would quietly join him on his mint colored rug until one of them gave in.

“Please don’t leave Arus,” Lance says one night while Keith blinks away angry tears at his glow-in-the-dark ceiling stickers.

It’s quiet, save for their breathing.

“I have to,” he answered. He’s fifteen and he’s young and reckless, tired and broken in a way that Lance can’t understand. “I’ll run and never look back.”

Lance sighs, and Keith ignores the pain that echoes it. Lance is smart, Keith knows, but he’ll never understand. He doesn’t feel the urgent need to _run run run_ out of this god forsaken town; doesn’t feel the ache of sitting in one place. He doesn’t get it.

But Keith knows what opportunities look like. It wasn’t Hunk who would end up working in his family restaurant or Allura who would end up inheriting her father’s business.

It was Lance Serrano.

Lance who had ambitions large enough to float up and away and never come back.

 

…

 

He punches hard with no regrets until he sees the switchblade. But by then, it’s be too late and all that’s left is to stand his ground. He’s strong and he’s fast, but his skin slices like scissors through paper.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he hissed, needle and thread in hand. 

He retreated to Lance’s because who would suspect the Cuban? A boy who never exchanged looks with Keith unless it was with a snarl on his tongue and a worried glint in his eyes. A boy who hardly existed to him in school unless it was to soothe his bruises in the boy’s bathroom out of prying eyes.

Keith frowns, looking away. “You can’t stop me.”  
Lance snapped at him. “Stop being stupid.”

Anger boils beneath his skin, bubbling out his throat. “Fuck off, Lance. I know what I’m doing!”

“Do you?” He growls, ears flushed. “Because to me, it looks like you’re a miserable mess.”  
Annoying, Keith thinks. Annoying and nosy and entitled. “I’m a mess? At least I’m getting out of here!”

“ _Are you? Doesn’t seem like it!”_

It’s hurts both of them when Keith shoves Lance hard enough that he stumbles into his bed.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispered, chest heaving from the impact. “Get out, Keith.”

“Lance—”  
“Ge _t out!”_ Lance screamed. He’s loud and he’s tired and doesn’t give a shit if his parents wake up and yell at him. He wants this to be _over_ ; to never worry about the mysterious bruises and cuts that line Keith’s skin like stitching in a doll. “Don’t come here again!”

Keith is gone before Lance finishes his sentence, nothing but a whisper in the wind and the waver in his voice. His blue eyes glare hard at his window. In this moment, in the quiet of his room and in the light of his blue study lamp, Lance Serrano decides that he _hates_ Keith Kogane and his violet eyes.

 

…

 

He had tried to run away, again. Had tried to leave this dumb town and it’s dumb beliefs and dumb people.

In return, his body aches with the phantom feet that kicked at his ribs.

“Stop running,” Lance would say, yet again. He’s sat on his bed, eyes glued to the stars on his ceiling.

“Or what?” He asked. “You’ll leave me out in the cold?”

“I hate you,” he whispered. They both know he doesn’t mean it; that he’ll open the window to his heart every night if Keith needs help. They ignore that, too.

 

…

 

“I’m leaving tonight,” he had said.

“Oh,” he replied. “Where?”

They’re sitting on his floor and Lance is slapping bandaids all over Keith. Keith, who was trapped in this fucking town. Lance, who was leaving for college.

He shrugs. “Altea University.”

“That’s in Europe, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Oh.”

It’s awkward, tense.

“I’ll stay,” Lance whispered, nimble fingers lingering on Keith’s bleeding knuckles. “Just ask.”

“You have to do this,” he answered. He eighteen and he’s reckless and wild in ways that Lance never was. “Run and never look back.”

Lance sighed. Keith ignores the pain unless it’s bruised into his sides.

“Okay,” he says. Something in Keith churns; stop him st _op him stop him!_ But he can’t.

Because Keith had always known Lance Serrano was different. A boy with wings on his back to take him wherever he wanted, with opportunities as limitless as the sky. A boy who loved too hard and fell too fast and drowned in violet eyes.

They weren’t friends; they would never be friends. So, who was Keith to deny Lance a chance to _run run run_ out of this god forsaken town.

“I’ll miss you,” he said instead.

 

…

 

**_fin_ **

  



End file.
